


What Really Hurts

by Blue_Night



Series: What Happens [7]
Category: Men's Football RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, M/M, Shower Sex, mentionings of a moresome, sex as a valve, struggles, the hundredth game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 19:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: Thomas and Marco are still away with the National Team, and Thomas' hundredth game in the National jersey ends with a painful draw that really hurts. But Marco is there to comfort him and let Thomas prove his skills as a lover to him.





	What Really Hurts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Janie94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janie94/gifts).



> My dearest Janie94,
> 
> there really should be more Mülleus, they have a wonderful dynamic and writing them together is really fun. And now that this part is written, I can hopefully focus on the other thing we talked about... ;-*
> 
> You know that I'm actually not a real Bayern fan, but I've always liked Thomas, and I have come to love him even more because of your wonderful stories about him. I hope that he will find back to his old form again, and I will happily continue to write him for you. :-*

They don't talk about their first time together when they wake up the next morning, but there is no awkward silence or strange mood between them, and they smile at each other before they leave their room to have breakfast with their teammates.

Thomas sits together with Toni, Mats and Manu, not because he doesn't like the young players, but because they don't see Toni as often as they would like to see him, and because it's different for them than it is when they're in a hotel with their FCB and they can talk about different things.

Marco seems to be fine with that, and he joins them to talk to Mats and joke about their time in Dortmund. It's nice and comfortable and reminds Thomas of old, so much better times, and he dares to relax and actually enjoy himself for a precious hour.

They don't sleep with each other again, not because they don't desire each other any longer, but because they silently agree to focusing on football and the next two games for the time being, and Thomas spends some considerably large amount of time with chatting with Robert via phone because he misses him so much – even more after his outstanding first time with Marco – and because he really wants to show Robert that nothing has changed between them.

His new role as the whipping boy for the German football nation truly hurts him more than he would have thought, and he avoids Social Media and the yellow press as best as he can, not wanting to see his face under another one of the countless critical articles about his abysmal performance each and every day. Marco leaves him alone and gives him the time he needs to lick his wounds, and Thomas can't help but think that the blond Dortmunder understands him and how he feels much better than Robert has ever done, even though he can't quite explain why he's feeling that way.

They sleep nestled against each other with Thomas either being the big or the small spoon, and it's enough for both of them to get the rest they need and feel refreshed the next morning. Sometimes Marco pulls his head in for a kiss, and it's always the kiss of a lover and not the kiss of a simple friend, but that's all.

Marco has a minor injury and has to skip the game against Russia, but he's fit again when the day comes and they have to play against the Netherlands again, supposed to console the hearts of the German football fans and win this last game.

It will be Thomas' hundredth game – if Löw will let him play, that is – and it's in Gelsenkirchen, which is always a special thing for Marco because he normally doesn't get any love when he's playing in Gelsenkirchen because of the 'wrong' colors he's usually wearing then.

They're both thoughtful and quiet, taking their seats on the bench – Marco because he's been behind with training due to his injury while he himself is simply not good enough to be a part of the starting eleven anywhere in the near future again.

Thomas is reasonable enough to acknowledge this painful truth, but it still hurts like hell, and he has a big lump in his throat when he watches his younger teammates dominate the Netherlands, all those young and hungry players who still have to prove themselves, but are yet already so good and experienced. He'd once belonged to them, but this was more than a lifetime ago.

Thomas stares at the pitch with burning eyes, following their every movements with a stoic face that costs him all of his strength, and he's torn between relief, gratitude, doubts and reluctance when Löw tells him that he will play for the last almost twenty minutes. He hasn't reached the point where he would feel actual fear, but it comes close to that. They're in front with two goals when he runs onto the pitch, but he leaves the stadium with a draw that feels like a painful loss, and he knows what the press will write and what people will say about him the very next day.

Thomas blames himself, even though it wasn't really his fault alone, he didn't play so bad this time, but that doesn't diminish the heavy weight of guilt and shame pressing down on him. He needs awfully long for the shower and changing into his clothes, and he still feels dirty when he's dressed with his training gear from the National Team, wanting to tear it from his body because it feels scratchy and too big and too tight at the same time.

He hasn't talked to Marco since the final whistle, and he's surprised when the blond sits down beside him in the locker room.

“A friend of mine brought my car here. Do you want to come home with me? There are others who don't want to stay in the hotel tonight either. Löw gave us his okay.”

“You want me to come home with you?” Thomas can't believe his ears, because he definitely didn't expect this. He's not Marco's boyfriend, he's the boyfriend of Marco's first love, and things are still complicated between them.

Marco gifts him with one of his lopsided smiles, and is he really making puppy eyes at him? Thomas can hardly believe that this is happening, not after the horrible turnout of the evening and the entire football year this year has been for him so far.

“Only if you want that too, Tommy,” Marco says, using Thomas' nickname to emphasize that he's serious about his offer. “I would be happy if you accepted my invitation.” He blushes a little bit and chews uncertainly on his bottom lip. Thomas finds himself staring at the red spot forming there, desire pooling in his stomach.

“I hope you don't mind that I did that behind your back, but I asked Robert and Erik before the game today if they were fine with you staying at my place until tomorrow, and they both found it to be a good idea – just in case that you worry about Robert's reaction.”

That had indeed been worrying Thomas and keeping him from shouting: “Yes, yes, yes, I want that!” right away, and he swallows dryly and peers at Marco from the side, suddenly feeling sheepish and shy. “So, you'd really like me to come with you, Reus?” he mumbles, careful not to let Mats and Manu watching them from the other side of the room hear his words.

“Yes, Tommy.”

Thomas swallows again. “I want that too, Marco.”

Marco beams at him and rises to his feet. “I'll wait for you outside, you surely want to talk to Manu before you leave,” he says, and Thomas nods and smiles at him, watching Marco shake hands with the two Bayern players before he closes the door behind him. They're normally rivals on the pitch, but tonight they're all united in their misery about the unnecessary draw, and it's strangely consoling to see a Dortmunder and two Münchner smiling at each other with real fondness.

Thomas sighs and takes his bag to walk over to his friends with heavy feet but a lighter heart, and he tells himself that this is not the end of the world and that there's still the chance that things will become better again for him.

If he could only believe his own words, and if only reality wouldn't hurt as much as it actually does.

 

***

 

The god of Ruhrgebiet traffic jams for once shows mercy with them and grants them a free passage.  
Thomas always thought that this god or goddess must be a close relative of the three Furies, probably a younger sibling that was forgotten and left behind when the Romans decided to leave Germania; and which is still taking revenge on the descendants of Arminius and his Cherusker clique very effectively by torturing them with being stuck in a small car in huge traffic jams for hours.

It's late when they finally arrive in Dortmund, but Thomas doesn't feel like being able to sleep any time soon, and he draws in a shaky breath when Marco closes the front door and pulls him in his arms without saying a word.

Thomas rests his head on his shoulder and wraps his own arms tightly around his neck. They stand in Marco's hallway like this for a while, and Thomas closes his eyes and inhales deeply the unique smell of Marco's home, musing briefly if Robert is doing the same when he visits his first love.

Marco gently cards his fingers through Thomas' hair, and Thomas feels this strange connection and understanding between them again, that Marco knows exactly how he's feeling without him having to explain anything.

“Can we take a shower, please?” It wasn't his intention to utter this wish, but he still feels dirty, the stain of having gotten two goals against them in the very last minute still itching on his skin.

“Of course, tiger,” Marco murmurs into his hair, and Thomas doesn't object against Marco taking the freedom to use the petname Robert addresses him with. Marco has the right to call him tiger now as well, and he lets the blond guide him upstairs to his private bathroom with gratitude and relief.

They undress each other carefully and without speaking, and the warm water spray feels heavenly on Thomas' skin when Marco pulls him into the large shower cubicle and closes the acrylic door. He wraps his arms around the blond's neck again and buries his face in the warm crook where Marco's neck and shoulder meet, and Marco holds him and rocks him gently, stroking his now wet hair again in a steady rhythm.

Thomas is not the kind of guy who starts to cry easily, and his eyes are dry, but there is a huge lump in his throat that chokes him and that just doesn't want to fade.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs when a few minutes have passed and he trusts his voice enough that it will not to break, “you're probably thinking that I should be the last one feeling bad and sorry for myself, and you're surely right with that.”

He can sense Marco shaking his head, and the blond pulls him closer and rubs soothing circles over his back. “No, I don't think that, Thomas, not the least. Why would I?” he asks gently, and Thomas squeezes his eyes shut because they're stinging with hot tears now.

“Because I've won almost every title footballers can win in their career, every title that counts, I mean. Okay, not the European Championship, but most footballer would already be happy to have won just one title, and I should be grateful for what I have and not whine and feel sorry for myself just because the last year has been not so good for me... You of all people should bear a grudge against me because of my behavior, shouldn't you?”

Thomas is honest enough to admit that he would surely bear a grudge against Marco if their roles were reversed, and yet Marco is standing here and stroking him and rocking him, and his voice is tender when he speaks up again.

“I don't bear a grudge against you, Tommy. You deserve all these titles, and the last year has been a nightmare for you and a lot of the people I love and care about.”

Mostly for Erik, and Thomas is really grateful that Marco doesn't mention his name. This year has been hard for all of them when it comes to their jobs and careers, even for Marco who is in his best form and on top of the table with his beloved BVB at the moment. But considering what he's been through since his transfer to Dortmund, all his injuries and the transfers of the friends he loved, all the missed chances and titles, it's a true miracle that Marco hasn't become bitter and still knows how to smile.

This year hasn't been a good one for Robert either, and his own doubts and feelings when it comes to his lost form and his problems are nothing Thomas can really talk about with Robert. He always feels that he doesn't have the right to complain when Robert must be missing so much more, feeling much worse than he's feeling, and having to keep all of this inside and to himself is slowly poisoning him. Thomas didn't know how much he needed to let it all out until this moment, and Marco's comfort and understanding are balm for his wounded soul and just what he needs so badly right now.

“Thank you,” Thomas croaks out, meaning everything and nothing with these two words as he's still fighting against his tears, and Marco brushes his lips over his temples. “No one's here, Tommy, only you and me, and nothing will leave this room if you don't want to. Just cry if you need to, I'm here.”

“I feel stupid,” Thomas sniffs, and Marco kisses his hair again. “You really don't need to feel this way, Tommy. I normally avoid reading things about myself or other players in the press and on Social Media, but it's hardly possible not to know what people are saying and writing. I have been lucky so far because I've been left alone mostly, the things they wrote and said about me over the last years were mostly kind and nice things. They pitied me for my injuries, but they didn't really write anything bad about me. You on the other hand are held responsible for the success or failure of Bayern and the National Team, the 'face' of the club and Germany's football nation so to speak, and the pressure on you is so much higher! All these stupid phrases like 'it's Müllering again' or 'it doesn't Müller any longer' and so on, and now that things are not so good, you're the bad guy and everybody's talking about your poor state as if they were all experts and had the right to do that. I can hardly imagine what all of this shit must do to you, no wonder that you're feeling down and have problems with your play and your form. They should all shut up and just leave you alone!”

Marco sounds angry at his behalf, and his hands are tender on his back. Thomas lifts his face from its hiding place on Marco's shoulder and searches blindly for his lips, and Marco kisses him back with passion and the same need Thomas is feeling.

Their tongues are dancing around each other, and Thomas is rock-hard within seconds, holding Marco's head in place with both hands to deepen their hungry kiss. They're both out of breath by the time they part to gulp for air, and Marco is throbbing against his abdomen and his eyes are dark with arousal.

“Did you mean what you said in that night?” Thomas gasps, and Marco's lips curl into this lopsided grin. “What do you mean? That I want you to prove your fucking skills, tiger?” he smirks, and Thomas growls and pushes him against the wet tiles. His feelings need a valve, and the thought of finally being allowed to fuck Marco after all those years Thomas was secretly longing to do that makes him dizzy and sends another wave of raw lust through his tired and aching body.

“No, that you're in love with me,” he whispers in a husky voice, and Marco becomes serious again. “I would never tell someone that I love them if I didn't mean it, Tommy,” he says, and Thomas lets out a strangled sob and kisses him again, hard and passionate and desperate. He can't speak, but his kiss seems to tell Marco that he loves him just as much, letting Thomas claim his mouth without trying to take over control.

“I need, I need to...” Thomas stammers when he pulls away from Marco's thoroughly kissed mouth, and Marco smiles tenderly at him. “I'm right here, I'm all yours, tiger.”

Thomas groans and kisses him again before he starts to kiss his way down on Marco's body, urgently and driven by the emotions that are still choking him, mouthing along Marco's jaw and neck and chest, his hands around his wet shoulders at first and then following the curves and lines of Marco's slim body further down. Thomas sucks at his nipples until Marco shivers in his arms, his erect cock twitching against Thomas' stomach, and he teases his navel with his tongue, pulling more shivers and groans from the blond.

Marco's aroused cock is gorgeous, bouncing proudly right before Thomas' nose, and Thomas doesn't hesitate to take it in his mouth and stroke along the shaft with his tongue. Marco growls deep in his throat, and he spreads his legs to keep his balance when more shudders of lust capture his body.

“Fuck, you're good at this, tiger, don't stop, please, don't stop!” His golden lion gasps out, surrendering willingly to the tiger. Thomas keeps his eyes on Marco's face in order not to miss the glorious sight of his prey in all his flushed and ruffled state, a view only two other men except for him get to see. Marco's cheeks are red, and he has closed his eyes and thrown his head back against the tiles, exposing his vulnerable throat to Thomas' hungry stare. His lips are parted and he licks over them with his tongue, his left hand clawing at the tiles while he rubs his nipples with his right one, squeezing them between his fingertips.

He must be very sensitive there, because every time he does, his cock twitches in Thomas' mouth, and Thomas will keep that in mind for the future. He hollows his cheeks and tries to swallow the entire length of Marco's impressive dick, fumbling for the shower gel to slick his fingers up. He can't speak with the heavy weight of Marco's erection on his tongue, but Marco just spreads his legs wider when he feels Thomas' finger at his entrance.

“Oh, yes, put it inside, just do it!” Marco demands breathlessly, “fuck, this is so good!” Thomas is all too happy to obey, circling Marco's hole for a few seconds as he dwells in the memory how Marco looked when Robert was rimming him and how much he craved to see this special look on Marco's face when it would be him doing that to Robert's first love. Now Marco is all ruffled and flushed and needy only for him, and Thomas' neglected cock jerks forcefully because of the desire Thomas feels at the thought that Marco will be his and his alone tonight.

“Uuuhh yes, right there, deeper, put it deeper!” Marco encourages him to fuck him with his finger, still pulling and rubbing his nipples, and the thick cock in Thomas' mouth leaks salty droplets onto his tongue and grows even harder and bigger.

Thomas' groin is burning, and he is close just from pleasuring his golden lion this way. His lips hurt from being stretched, and his throat feels a little bit sore, but Thomas just sucks harder and licks as if his life depended on it until Marco is almost shaking. Thomas' short nails will definitely leave marks where they dig into Marco's hips to stabilize him, and the second finger goes in as smoothly as the first one did. Marco's tight and hot passage is cramping around them, and Thomas can tell the moment when Marco reaches the point of no return even before the blond warns him in such a hoarse voice that it is hardly recognizable any longer.

“I'm going to come, tiger, I'm so going to coooooomeeee!” Marco shouts, adding a loud “fuck, tiger!!!” and then he's coming in Thomas' mouth, shooting his load deep down his throat, shuddering and jerking violently through his forceful climax. His walls convulse around Thomas' fingers, and Thomas has to catch him when Marco goes limp against the tiles, breathing heavily.

“Oh wow.” Marco swallows several times, his fingers still on his nipples and his eyes still closed. He looks blissfully sated and happy, and Thomas rises back onto his feet on wobbly knees and kisses him deep and passionately to let him taste himself on Thomas' lips. Marco strokes along his stomach to wrap his fingers around Thomas' aching arousal, and it takes only three ups and downs until Thomas is coming hard all over his hand, spurting hot and wet between their stomachs with a strangled mewl that Marco swallows with his kiss.

“Love you, Tommy.” Marco leans their foreheads together when Thomas relaxes with a sob, and Thomas smiles shakily at him, accepting Marco's love and comfort that makes the hurt go away at least partly. “Love you too, Marco very much.”

 

***

 

They have washed and dried each other carefully and then made their way to the bed, tired down to their bones, but Thomas' mind is still racing, and Marco seems to sense that and just pulls him on top of him. He reaches for the drawer of his nightstand and Thomas hardens instantly again when Marco's warm fingers are back on his dick, gently massaging the cool lube into the soft skin. They kiss each other the whole time, open-mouth kisses with tongues, and Marco's left hand is in his hair to keep his head in place when he wraps his slim and long legs around Thomas' hips and raises his ass to make it easier for Thomas to push inside.

Being buried in Marco's secret core is heaven on Earth, so hot and tight, and his walls are smooth like velvet and silk when his inner muscles massage Thomas' dick in a wonderful way when Marco clenches them around him.

Marco's other hand is on Thomas' backside to massage his butt cheeks and help him move, and Thomas pushes into him again with soft rolling movements because he never wants this to end. He draws back from Marco's lips to look down at him, and Marco smiles his beautiful smile and moves against him, his dick slowly growing back to full hardness again.

“You feel so good inside me, tiger, so, so good,” Marco says, and Thomas growls and thrusts deeper. “You feel so good around me, lion, so hot and tight and perfect, I never want to leave you again.” He bends down to lick over Marco's erect nipples, and the blond rewards him with a loud moan and a heavy shiver, growing harder against Thomas' still damp abs.

“Ah, I knew that you would like that, Reus. I bet that I can make you come just from my cock fucking you and my mouth sucking at your nipples.” His words pull a generous amount of precome from Marco's dick, smearing the creamy drops over his abs. “Now look who's eager!” Thomas snickers around Marco's right nipple, sucking harder at it, and Marco yelps and arches his back into the next thrust.

Thomas feels smug and powerful, and the thought that he's fucking Marco where Robert had taken him only a couple of weeks ago, right here in Marco's bed, sends a pleasant thrill through him. Thomas hadn't been aware of how possessive he can actually be, possessive about Robert and Marco, and the pictures of him fucking Marco here in his bed while Robert and Erik are watching them boost his arousal and almost make him come right on the spot. He wants to come back here together with his panther and take Robert here in Marco's bed, and then he wants to give Erik the hand job of his life or maybe fuck him in Marco's bed as well, watched by Robert and Marco. His leopard is so beautiful, and Thomas would really love to feel Erik's long and elegant legs around his back like he's feeling Marco's legs around his back right now.

He moves faster, thrusting hard and deep into Marco, and Marco groans and mewls with every hit against his sweet spot, trembling beneath him with the force of his desire.

“Need to come, Müller, please, make me come!” Marco moans, and Thomas closes his teeth around his nipple to bite it.

Marco comes with a shout, bucking his hips up and shooting between their bodies as his cock literally explodes, and Thomas moves faster and faster until the world around him is exploding too, painting Marco's cramping walls with his ecstasy.

It takes long until they come down from their height, and this time they only use tissues to clean each other up before they snuggle close under the covers, too tired and sleepy for more than a brief goodnight kiss.

The draw doesn't hurt anymore as it had hurt two hours ago, even though Thomas had wished for another result on his hundredth game for Germany, and he feels new hope that things might become better for all of them again in the future. The possibility that the game tonight was his last game in the National Team is not that small, and if this will be the case, then Thomas will accept it, and with Robert, Marco and maybe even Erik by his side, he will be fine, he knows that for sure.

“Goodnight, Reus,” he murmurs when his eyes droop shut, and Marco's kiss on his hair is the last thing he feels before he drifts off to sleep, safe and warm in Marco's loving embrace.

“”Goodnight, Müller, sleep well, and congratulations to your hundredth game. Whatever the future will bring, this is something nobody can ever take away from you again, and you really, really deserve to be one of them.”

And this and the love Thomas is sharing with Robert and Marco and hopefully Erik one day as well is all that truly matters, even if life really hurts sometimes.


End file.
